Kate paced the study, her teeth tugging at her full lower lip. She whirled as the door from her father’s room opened and Dr. Boles, disheveled and weary from his long vigil, entered. She started to speak, saw his distress, and went straight to the sideboy where she poured him a glass of brandy. The old doctor took it with trembling hands and drank it straight down.
“By Godfrey, I needed that!” he said fervently.
“How is he, doctor?” she asked tersely.
“Sleeping at last ... I think maybe we’ve beaten it, Katherine.” Boles dropped into a chair and took a cigar from the box on Dukes’ desk. He pierced it and Kate held a match for him. He puffed luxuriously, looking up at the girl through the smoke. “If you can keep him free of worry for a week or two, girlie …”
“Another week or two!” The girl was aghast.
Boles looked at her sharply. “Troubles?”
Kate sighed, nodding. “Something I don’t think I can handle, Dr. Boles ... Pa’s the only one who can advise me.”
He shook his head firmly. “Not for a week or two. It’s important that he be kept absolutely quiet and worry-free ... You’ve got to hold the fort, girlie, even if you have to draw straws in order to make decisions. Otherwise, we’ll be all attending a state funeral ...”
Kate stared at him, knowing that the blunt old medic never exaggerated a situation.
“It involves Yancey’s safety,” she said quietly. “And Johnny Cato’s ... Not to mention the welfare of Texas ...”
“I’ve told you the only thing I can, Katherine,” Boles said quietly. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is ... As things are, your father has a chance, a fair chance. Any added worry and …” He shook his head slowly, then rose to his feet.
“I understand,” Kate said with a tilt of her chin and a toss of her hair, characteristic gestures of determination to anyone who knew her well. She walked to the door with the medic and held it open for him. “Thank you, doctor.”
He paused in the doorway, looking at her. “I wish I could help you, Katherine. I truly do.”
She smiled as he went wearily down the passage towards the rooms he used when he was staying at the house on Capitol Hill. Kate started to close the door but checked when she saw two dusty men being ushered down the hall by the guard from the main entrance. Kate gave a sigh of relief when she saw the men. It looked as if part of the assignment had gone off as planned anyway ...
The men stopped beside her and she waved the guard away with a nod of thanks. Both men wore the circled-star badge of the Texas Rangers, and Kate stood aside for them to enter the study.
“I’m glad to see you both. Come in.”
The blond Ranger with the blotchy skin, known as Lawton, smiled faintly as he brushed past Kate and the swarthy Earle nodded soberly as she closed the door behind them.
“Well, gentlemen,” she said. “How does it feel to be back from the dead?”
About twenty minutes later, Kate figured that she would be able to handle most of the assignment's arrangements herself now. She would be groping to some extent, but, in the main, she would not have to trouble her father and that was the main thing right now ... She looked across her father’s desk, where she sat, at the two big Rangers.
“And your being locked in the ice-house in Giddings caused all the delay in getting word to us, is that right?” she asked, looking at Lawton.
“Yes’m ... Darned sheriff, Al Mayfield, come back into the express office to make sure we was all right … I was wonderin’ a little myself at the time, Cato had done it so realistic, specially when that charge of buckshot went off from his Manstopper ... Well, Mayfield said to play dead a mite longer while he got the undertaker. Which we did. But the damn ... sorry, ma’am ... blamed fool figured to keep us in the ice-house and join the posse. Hopin’ for more business, I guess.”
“We couldn’t yell or make too much ruckus,” Earle said, taking up the story, “or someone would’ve figured somethin’ queer was goin’ on, with two ‘dead’ Rangers comin’ back to life. So we had to cut our way out through the rear wall with a clasp knife. And that cedar was thick: three layers, for insulation. Orders were we wasn’t to send a telegraph in case someone realized the express robbery had been set up. And Mayfield hadn’t left us any horses. Or, if he had, they’d been taken while we was locked in the ice-house. We got here as fast as we could, ma’am. Killed a horse on the way, rode it into the ground.”
Kate nodded. “You did well under the circumstances ... So did Cato by the sound of things. He should be in Condor by now ...”
“Well, that I ain’t too sure of,” Lawton said quietly.
Kate stiffened. “What’s happened?”
“Near as we can figure, from what we heard comin’ up the trail, Yancey’s taken over Condor, all right, gunned-down Callan and a few others, but Cato hadn’t gotten there.”
Kate frowned. “What could be holding him up now?”
“Posse is my guess,” Earle said. “They were a mighty eager bunch of hombres that rode out, lookin’ for excitement. I figure Mayfield might’ve had trouble easin’ ’em off. And if they put on the pressure, Cato could finish up ridin’ clear to the Brasada tryin’ to shake ’em.”
The girl frowned deeply, fingers tapping against the box of cigars on the desk. “If he doesn’t get there before El Halcon’s agent, or soon after, Yancey might not be able to work things so that they get in with the outfit ...”
The two Rangers nodded; that was about the size of it. And, of course, if that happened, all the elaborate setting up, with the ready-made ‘outlaw’ reputations of Yancey Bannerman and Johnny ‘Colt’ Cato, would have gone for nothing, and they might never break the gun-running ring that was smuggling the latest U.S. arms across the Rio to the rebel hordes led by the man who called himself El Halcon ... The Hawk, the avenger sworn to overthrow the Mexican government and retake all the land that once had been New Spain’s.
And that, of course, included the State of Texas.
It was out of Kate’s hands, now. From here on in it was entirely up to Yancey and Cato. There was nothing she could do to help from so far away. Her biggest problem at the moment would be how to keep this news away from the governor. For she knew she might not be able to prevent the concern she felt for Yancey from showing on her face ...
Yancey Bannerman, known as ‘Banner’ the gunhawk in Condor, sprawled seemingly at ease in an overstuffed chair in his rooms at the Silver Slipper, a glass of whisky in his left hand as he stared across to where the giant Cannon sat, drinking straight from the stone jug, Yancey figured he must have swallowed nearly three pints of liquor but, for all the effect it was having on the man, it might have been well water.
“Just what was the job you used to get Callan to do for you?” he asked Cannon quietly. “I ain’t takin’ on anything I don’t know the full details of ...”
Cannon lowered the jug and wiped the back of a hairy hand across thick lips which glistened obscenely red against his girlish skin. His satanic eyes swiveled to Yancey’s face and held the big troubleshooter’s gaze.
“I ain’t about to go into details,” Cannon said, “All I want to know is would you be interested in takin’ over from Callan. About once a month I’d turn up here and pick up Callan and we’d ride out, do the job, and Callan would come back with an extra five hundred in gold in his pocket ... It was his gun I was hirin’. But he never had to use it much. And that’s about all I’m sayin’, Banner.”
Yancey shook his head without hesitation. “Too damn hazy for me, mister. Five hundred sounds interestin’ but I don’t hire out my gun blind, not without knowin’ some of the odds.”
Cannon studied his face for a moment, uncorked the stone jug but changed his mind and slapped the cork back in the neck. “It means ridin’ south of the Rio ... Now that is all I aim to tell you!”
“Still no deal,” Yancey said. He waved an arm around the room. “I like it here. Nice and easy ... Townsfolk don’t give me any trouble. Ai
n’t seen the sheriff since I arrived. He’s somewhere up in the hills, they tell me ... Why should I risk my neck for a blind five hundred?”
Cannon’s smooth face hardened but he shrugged, stood up. “Well, it could’ve been a good deal ... I ain’t pushed for time. Mebbe if it gets that way I’ll spell it out a mite more. You got any objections to me stayin’ a spell?”
“Reckon not,” Yancey said, not moving, except to hitch his right hip a little higher so he could get to his Peacemaker in a hurry if he had to. “You can stick around for two-three days ...”
Cannon stiffened. “I don’t like anyone puttin’ the clock on me, Banner!”
“We’ll talk about it in two, three days,” Yancey said easily and Cannon gave him one last glare before heeling and making for the door. When he had a massive hand on the knob, Yancey said, “Nice lookin’ gun you got there.”
He thought Cannon’s massive shoulders tensed but the giant’s face was impassive as he looked directly at Yancey with his black eyes.
“Remington .44. Not many around in this model.”
“What I was thinkin’. Don’t suppose you’d let me look at it? You could hold my Peacemaker while I do it. In case you feel naked without some sort of six-gun.”
“No,” Cannon said flatly, stared for a little longer, then nodded abruptly and went out the door.
Yancey sighed, standing as he thoughtfully scrubbed a hand around his jaw line. Unless he missed his guess, Cannon was El Halcon’s agent and Callan must have ridden along as a kind of troubleshooter while they picked up the guns. Likely his job would have been only to escort Cannon across the Rio with the guns and then return here. Maybe he took an occasional ride down into Mexico if the going looked like being particularly rough ...
So Governor Lester Dukes had been right. He had figured Callan to be the troubleshooter and had sent Yancey in to get rid of him, just about the time another shipment of guns south was due to move. He figured that El Halcon’s agent would have to have a fast gun to replace Callan and who better than the man who had outgunned him? It had been risky, and Kate had been upset at the possible consequences, but Dukes had had faith in Yancey’s gun speed and his ability to pull it off. But what worried Kate was that Yancey and Cato would be the sixth and seventh agents sent by Dukes to try to break this gun-running ring. The others, working undercover in varying degrees, had all wound up dead or simply never been heard of again. And now the pressure was on, for the word was that El Halcon was poised for his strike at Sonora and needed only this last shipment of the latest weapons before making his move ...
Dukes had gambled. To him, the only way of getting an agent into the ring without suspicion was for the man to commit lawless deeds right where dozens of folk could see him do them. Talk and rumor had proved insufficient, disastrous, in the past, so this had to be something different, with a different breed of man, a man who would lay his life on the line.
Yancey had been that man and Cato had been only a hair’s breadth behind. In conjunction with Dukes, they had worked out their play: gun down Callan and anyone who came along hunting gun-glory. Stage a robbery in which it appeared that a couple of lawmen were shot down mercilessly, and get both men into Condor as apparent strangers to each other. From there on they would be on their own and, once across the border into Mexico there would be no calling on Dukes for help. He would have to deny that he even knew them, as would the Mexican government which would have to consider their presence on Mexican soil as undercover agents an act of aggression by the United States. El Halcon would make much capital out of their presence too, turning it against the government, using it to win him more support from the army which was already restless and dissatisfied with its treatment by the present authorities.
What it all boiled down to, Yancey thought, draining the last of the whisky from his glass, was that they simply couldn’t afford to get caught.
But, first, Cato had to get here and they had to convince Cannon that he needed them both, but in such a way that the giant would think it had been his own idea all along. And Cannon was one hombre Yancey would rather not tangle with. Any time.
Five – Men of Violence
During the next twenty-four hours, three riders drifted into town. Two came in together, calling themselves Loveless and Clayton. They were grim-faced men, trail-dirty, gun-hung, with restless, bleak eyes. Walking their weary mounts across the plaza, they looked about them constantly, but their gazes weren’t on the people passing by on the boardwalks so much as they were on the horses tied to the hitch racks.
Loveless and Clayton rode all around the plaza and came back to their starting point outside the Silver Slipper.
From the window of his room upstairs, Yancey Bannerman watched curiously as the two strangers paused to roll cigarettes and fire them up before angling across the plaza again towards the side-street that led to the livery stable. They were looking for someone’s horse, that much was obvious, yet they had not made a close examination of the mounts they had passed; no searching for a particular brand or scuffed saddle. Which meant that they would be able to recognize the mount they were interested in from a distance. Maybe by color or size or both ...
Yancey pursed his lips thoughtfully. Maybe a horse that would stand out readily ... like one about eighteen hands high and dun-colored. Yet Cannon struck Yancey as being, essentially, a loner. Sure, he would use men when he had to, buying their loyalty for a time, but he wouldn’t be the kind to look for anything more enduring than that. So he couldn’t figure those men below as a couple of Cannon’s pards, just turning up. Of course, they might not be looking for the big gun-runner at all, but Yancey figured there was a good chance that they were. Playing his hunch, he hurried out of his room and cut across through back alleys, coming into the livery stable by the rear door only seconds after Loveless and Clayton entered through the big double doors at the front of the building.
He stood back in the shadows as the stable hand went to them and was given his instructions about caring for their mounts. While the man took the weary horses to stalls, Loveless and Clayton walked down the aisle slowly until they came to where Cannon’s dun was tethered at the grain bin. Loveless, a blocky man with drooping moustaches, one side longer than the other, turned to Clayton with a nod of satisfaction.
“He’s here all right,” he growled.
Clayton, taller, leaner, older, nodded slowly, glanced around casually and stiffened when he saw Yancey standing in the shadows. His right hand started towards his gun and then checked. Instead, he lifted it to touch Loveless on the arm and jerked his head towards the double doors. Loveless frowned but Clayton, flicking him a warning signal that they were being watched, led him down the aisle towards the street doors. Yancey thrust off the wall and watched them go. At the doors, Clayton turned slowly and stared back into the stables briefly before walking on down the street beside Loveless. Both men seemed tense now and their right wrists brushed their gun butts as they walked.
Yancey looked thoughtfully after them. Seemed to him that these hombres weren’t exactly friendly towards Cannon. It had been there in Loveless’ tone, in the few words he had spoken. It seemed to Governor Dukes’ special agent that these two men had ridden a long trail and were now glad to find Cannon at the end of it. He aimed to sit back and see just what developed.
The third rider who rode into Condor that afternoon was Johnny Cato, alias John Colt.
Yancey was so glad to see him that he almost broke cover and went down to greet him. But that wasn’t the plan. They had to meet as apparent strangers and, if possible, through someone else. Like Cannon. It was going to take a little time and all Yancey could do was wait. Cato had been briefed and knew what to look for and who to listen to. He knew Cannon was the suspect gun-runner and there was little chance of mistaking the giant. Just how Cato handled his part of it was entirely up to him. As long as it wound up with him and Yancey meeting for what would seem to be the first time, with plenty of witnesses. That was how it had
to be played if they were going to pull this deal off.
Milt Pierce and his friends were growing worried about the non-appearance of the Ranger troop they had been expecting for days. Mort had located Tad Meacham up in the ranges and laid it on the line for the sheriff. He either went after the Rangers or he didn’t show his face in Condor again. Meacham had agreed to ride for the Ranger post at Del Rio, but he should have been back long before this.
Milt Pierce faced the circle of townsmen who were meeting in the rear of his store and compressed his lips. “You ask me, Meacham’s run out on us,” he said. “He’s had plenty of time to get to the Rangers and start back here with a troop, I figure he just kept on ridin’.”
Many of the others agreed with him though some were not so sure; they figured something could have happened to Meacham. For this was border country and almost any trail could be a dangerous one. They argued back and forth until, at last, Milt Pierce was able to bring some order to the meeting, and the voices died down to a murmur and finally stopped altogether.
Bannerman the Enforcer 18 Page 4
